Part 1

TO SAVE EARTH

BY EDWARD W. LUDWIG

ILLUSTRATED BY VAN DOGEN

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of Tomorrow October 1963 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

The life of everyone on Earth depended on their sanity ... which they had long ago lost!

For more than six years the silver rocket was like a tomb buried at the Earth's center. It wore the blackness of interstellar space for a shroud, and ten thousand gleaming stars were as the eyes of hungry, waiting worms.

Five of the inhabitants of the rocket moved like zombies, stone-faced and dull-eyed, numb even to their loneliness.

The sixth inhabitant did not move at all. He sat silent and unseeing. The sixth inhabitant was mad.

There had been times when all of them--mad and near-mad--had forgotten that they hurtled through space, that they were men and that they were growing old. Occasionally they had even forgotten that the destiny of mankind might lie in their hands like a fragile flower to be preserved or crushed.

But now came a moment six years one month and five days after their departure from Earth. The sole planet of Sirius loomed green and blue in the ship's magni-screen. The sight of the shining planet was like a heavenly trumpet call, a signal for resurrection.

The inhabitants stirred, rubbed their eyes, and tried to exhume forgotten hopes and memories from the lethargy of their minds....

* * * * *

"What do you think?" asked Lieutenant Washington.

Captain Jeffrey Torkel, gaunt-faced and gray, stiffened his lean body. At this moment all memory had left him, like a wind-tossed balloon leaping out of his skull.

_It's happened again_, he thought. _I've forgotten. Oh God, why must I keep forgetting?_

"Tell me what you think, Captain," said a balding, dark-skinned man clad in khakis.

Captain Torkel stared at the blue-green, cloud-mottled image in the screen. Where was he? Certainly not in South Dakota. Certainly not on a field of golden, bristling wheat. No, he had the feeling that much time had passed since those boyhood days on the Dakota farm.

He glanced at the strange man who had spoken to him. The balloon snapped back into his skull. Memory returned.

_At least it wasn't gone for a week this time_, he thought. _Thank you, God._

"You must be thinking _something_," persisted the man who had become Lieutenant Washington.

The captain rubbed his gray stubble of beard. "I guess I'm thinking that we're afraid and bewildered. We're not as full of strength and hope as saviors of the race should be. Sure, what we find here today will mean either life or death for the race. But the concept has been with us for too long. It's already made us half-mad. And the same part of our minds is afraid to hope lest it be disappointed. After all, the planet might be radioactive or uninhabitable, or--"

"But, Lord, Captain! Even with the sub-spatial drive it's taken us six years to get here. If there's a God who answers prayers, it's _got_ to be a good planet. Sirius has only one planet. This is the last chance left for the race. And look at it, Captain! The blue places must be water and the green must be land. It's bigger than Earth, but it looks almost like it!"

Captain Torkel nodded. "Whether it's good or bad, we still can't win, really. If it's bad, humanity dies and we stay on the ship for the rest of our lives. If it's good, we'll still be on it for twelve more years--six years back to Earth and another six to return here."

Lieutenant Washington began to shake. "I don't know if I could take twelve more years in space. Twelve years of eating and sleeping and playing chess in the silence and nothing but darkness outside, and trying to find a micro-movie we haven't seen a hundred times--all that, over and over--" He closed his eyes. "I don't think the others could take it either. They'd probably become like Kelly."

Kelly was the mad one.

"We have no other choice, Lieutenant. If the planet's habitable, we have to take the news back."

The lieutenant shuddered. "I--I need a drink," he faltered. "I know. I said I wasn't going to drink today. I'm not either. Not much. I want to be on my feet when we hit that planet. But--excuse me, Captain."

Captain Torkel watched the gaunt officer stride to the aft compartment. He suddenly realized that the lieutenant was bald. The top of his Negroid skull shone like a dark egg. When had _that_ happened? Only a short time ago, it seemed, the lieutenant had been a young man with soft thick hair. _Those six years did it_, thought Captain Torkel, _those six dark, silent, crazy years._

* * * * *

The lieutenant returned a few seconds later, calmer now, reeking with the stench of laboratory alcohol spilled on his jacket.

Captain Torkel, as always, pretended not to notice the stench.

"Captain," said Lieutenant Washington deeply.

"Yes?"

"Suppose the astrophysicists back on Earth were wrong. They said the sun would blow up in exactly twelve years, two months and fifteen days. How could they get it that close? Suppose this planet _is_ habitable, suppose it _could_ be a new home for humanity. And suppose we start back home with the news, and then the sun turns into a nova ahead of schedule--say, in twelve years, two months and _three_ days, when we're still a week away."

Captain Torkel swallowed hard. "We have to allow a margin for error, of course. But I don't think those predictions will be off by more than a day or two. After all, they've been corroborated in all the broadcasts we've been able to pick up."

He smiled grimly. "So if the planet's habitable, we have to start back to Earth almost at once. We can't allow ourselves more than a day to rest and try to get the madness out of our systems."

"Oh, God," murmured Lieutenant Washington, closing his eyes.

"If we only had our transmitter," Captain Torkel mused, "we could stay here. We wouldn't have to--"

"Damn him," interrupted the lieutenant, opening his eyes and clenching his fists. "_Damn_ him!"

"Kelly?"

"Kelly. Why did he do it, Captain? Why did he throw every piece of transmitting equipment over-board?"

"Maybe a part of his mind hated Earth. Maybe unconsciously he didn't want to save humanity. Kelly's crazy. You can't account for the actions of a crazy man."

Lieutenant Washington was shaking again. "And so we can't radio Earth about what we find. If the planet's good, we have to tell Earth the hard way--by traveling through space for six more years. Captain, I--I think I'm going to have to get a dr--"

Footsteps sounded on the deck behind them. Van Gundy, the lean, hawk-nosed jetman, rushed up to them. He was breathing heavily and trembling.

"Captain, Fox stole my harmonica!"

Captain Torkel scowled. For a moment he forgot Van Gundy's name and who the lean man was. Then he remembered.

"Stole your harmonica. Why?"

"He won't tell me. He's a thief, Captain. He's always stealing things. You ought to--"

"Tell him I said for him to give it back to you. Tell him I said that."

"Yes, sir." Van Gundy clasped his trembling hands. "But that isn't all, Captain. Garcia said if I got my harmonica back and kept playing it, he'd kill me."

"Oh, God. Tell Garcia I said he couldn't."

"Yes, sir." Van Gundy turned toward the aft compartment, then spun back, eyes blazing. "I won't let 'em scare me, Captain. If they don't leave me alone. I'll kill _them_."

* * * * *

"The men are like rotting trees," said Captain Torkel a few moments later, "and you can't tell which way they'll fall. Fox steals. Van Gundy is afraid of everything and everybody. Garcia keeps breaking things and threatening violence. Someday he'll break a port, and that'll be _it_. Finis."

Lieutenant Washington said, with a hiccough, "Too bad we didn't insist on having a psychiatrist in the crew. Fox probably thinks he's been cheated out of his youth, and unconsciously he's trying to steal it back. Van Gundy has been knocked around so much that everything in the universe is a source of terror to him. Garcia breaks things."

He laughed sourly, blowing hot alcoholic breath into the captain's face. "And me, I'm a dipso who's no good to himself or anyone. You, Captain ... sometimes I suspect that your memory isn't quite what it use to be."

Captain Torkel scratched his stubbled chin. "Six psycho-specimens trying to save humanity. How did we become so detestable? Are all Earthmen like us?"

"Don't you remember?"

"Remember?"

"Yes. How when the U. N. announced about the blowup every interstellar rocket and spaceman in the System was commissioned to discover new worlds. Each ship was given a destination and an interstellar ether-radio to send back its findings. Mechanics and technicians still on Earth were put to work building new rockets to carry the race to its future home--if one were found. We and the _Star Queen_ were at the bottom of the barrel. The oldest ship; the crew that ordinarily would have been grounded."

Captain Torkel murmured, "I remember. There were fourteen interstellar ships then. Six cracked up smashing through the Einstein Barrier, according to what we picked up on the ether receiver. The others reached their destinations and not one found a habitable world. And newer ships sent out later had no better luck. Now, all the nearest star systems have been reached, and there isn't time for the ships to go on to other systems. By an ugly little prank of Fate, we're Earth's last chance."

He straightened. He pressed the warning buzzer and flicked on the rocket's intercom.

"All hands to their crash-chairs," he intoned.

II

The crewmen appeared in the rear of the control room. Hesitantly, they approached the massive, semicircular control panel with its hundred flashing red and blue lights.

Fox was in the lead.

"Captain," the small-boned, brown-bearded radarman said solemnly, "can we take a look before we belt down?"

"A short one."

The men looked.

Fox seemed ready to kiss the image of the planet. Van Gundy, wide-eyed, trembled before it as if at any instant it might destroy him. Garcia, the swarthy engineer, glowered at it as though threatening to crush it like an eggshell.

"I want Kelly to see this," said Fox. He hurried aft, nervously stroking his beard.

An instant later he returned, leading the former radioman by the hand. Kelly's soft blue eyes stared vacantly out of a pink, cherubic face. He was as plump as a dumpling, and his hair was as red as prairie fire. His short body moved woodenly.

"Come on, Kelly," said Fox. "You got to see this. Nobody's going to stop you from seeing this, by God."

The fire-haired man stood before the magni-screen.

Fox pointed. "See it?"

Kelly stared.

"He can't see it," rumbled Garcia. "He's crazy."

"Not too crazy to see this," Fox retorted.

Kelly's head bent forward. His lip quivered. "Home," he mumbled.

Fox jerked, eyes widening. "Hey, Kelly spoke! Did you hear that? He spoke! First time in two years!"

"Home," Kelly mumbled again.

"No, not home," Fox explained. "It's the only planet of Sirius."

"Hell," said Garcia, "if it'll make him happier, let him think it's Earth."

"No, it's the only planet of--"

"We can't be saying 'the only planet of Sirius' all the time. We got to give it a name."

"Home," mumbled the madman.

"What kind of a name would _that_ be?" growled Garcia.

Captain Torkel said, patiently, "Kelly didn't mean that for a name. He was just saying the word."

Fox cried, "Let's name it after Kelly. Kelly's Planet!"

Van Gundy stepped forward. He was trembling. His trembling seemed as much a part of him as sight in his eyes. "No," he said.

"Why not?" snapped Fox.

"Because of what he did. He took the transmitter and--"

"We know all that. He couldn't help it. He's a schizophrenic. That doesn't mean we can't name a world after him, does it?"

Garcia balled his hands into fists. "Fox is right. I say we call it Kelly's Planet. How about it, Captain?"

"It's all right with me," said the captain.

"Then Kelly's Planet it is!" cried Fox.

"Strap down," Captain Torkel said. "This is it. We're going to land."

Then he said the words again in his mind: _This is it. This is the world that will give death or life to humanity, madness or sanity to us._

* * * * *

The midnight blackness of space dissolved into gentle twilight as the _Star Queen_ slid into the atmosphere of Kelly's Planet. The grumble of the jets became audible and then swelled until it was like a rebirth of the thunderous sound of an April takeoff more than six years ago.

Captain Torkel switched on the second layer of bow jets, braced himself in his crash-chair. Despite the effects of the deceleration compensator, his face was swollen and distorted. It was as if the soul was bubbling out of his body.

He realized that he should have commenced deceleration some ninety minutes ago. But he had forgotten.

The image of the planet broadened in the magni-screen. It filled the screen, then seemed to spill out of it. Captain Torkel beheld an expanse of blue which, in a silent explosion, was transformed into the cerulean calm of a sea. The blue was swept away. The brownish gold of mountains stabbed briefly upward, faded into the shadowy green of rushing forest. Then came the glassy green of a meadow.

The _Star Queen_ paused, shaking with vibration. Its nose arched upward.

The _Star Queen_ landed with an almost imperceptible thump. The atomic engines spluttered, coughed, died. The men unbuckled themselves, tested their limbs, slid off their chairs. They moved to the portholes like frightened old men treading on slippery ice.

They looked out.

* * * * *

They stared for a long moment. "I don't believe it," said Fox at last. "It's a mirage. We're still in space."

"It--it frightens me," stuttered Van Gundy. "There's death out there. The air is poisonous. I feel it."

"We're crazy," Garcia spat. "As crazy as Kelly." His eyes widened. "Or maybe we're dead. Could that be?"

"E--excuse me, Captain," said Lieutenant Washington. "I think I'll go aft for a minute."

Captain Torkel said nothing. He had forgotten where he was. He was nameless and lost, among strangers in a strange place.

But at this moment he somehow did not care. He was content to let his hungry gaze absorb the rainbow beauty beyond the ports.

The meadow was like molten emerald stirring lazily in a slight breeze. The meadow was spotted with flowers as large as a man's head, shaped like teardrops, and shining purple and yellow and blue and crimson in the light from a swollen, blood-red sun.

Some five hundred yards away on the rocket's starboard side rose a towering green forest. In its shadow was a dark jungle of colossal fern and twisted vines and more flowers. Beyond that, far away, snow-cloaked mountains stretched their ponderous bulk into sea-blue sky.

Captain Torkel returned his slow gaze to the interior of the strange place in which he stood. He beheld a group of strange men doing strange things.

A stern-looking man with tight lips and menacing eyes was looking up from a litter of glass flasks and electronic devices. "Air twenty-nine per cent oxygen--a bit higher than on Earth. Sixty-five per cent nitrogen. Rest is a mixture of water vapor, CO2 and inert gases."

A small-boned man with a brown beard was saying, "Mass point-eight-three. That and the increased oxygen should make us feel like kids again."

A hawk-nosed man with trembling hands and a forehead glistening with perspiration said, "Temperature sixty-four Fahrenheit. No harmful radiation, pathogenic tests negative. Air pressure, eleven-point-three."

He pointed to an odd-looking flower and a tuft of grass in the window of a metal, box-like chamber. "Flora shows the same oxygen-CO2 cycle as on Earth. Only the flowers here seem edible."

The men looked at one another.

"Captain, is everything all right?" the brown-bearded man asked anxiously.

Captain Torkel sensed that the strange men desired an affirmative answer from him. "Yes," he said.

The brown-bearded man clapped his hands. "And we can go outside! How about it, Captain? Can we go outside without our suits? Can we go out now--please?"

_Click._

* * * * *

Memory returned to Captain Torkel like water crashing out of a broken dam and into a barren valley. He blinked and took a deep breath.

The three men before him became Garcia and Fox and Van Gundy. He saw that Kelly was still strapped in his crash-chair. He did not see Lieutenant Washington, but from the aft compartment came a faint tinkling of glassware.

"Yes," he said, "we'll go outside. But first someone should go alone--just in case. Who'll volunteer?"

"Not me," said Van Gundy. "You can't depend on those tests. There's death out there. The whole human race will die out if it comes here."

"Why not let Kelly go?" asked Fox. "It's his planet."

"Sure," said Garcia. "If he dies, it'd serve him right, after what _he_ did."

Captain Torkel thought, _It may be a dangerous planet. The captain ought to go first. He shouldn't send a madman to do a captain's job._

"Let Kelly go first," he said, hating himself.

Fox helped Kelly out of the crash-chair, pushed him to the airlock.

"Go on, Kelly. This is your planet. You'll be the first to set foot on it."

Kelly did not move.

Fox pulled him to a port. "Look out there, Kelly. Damn it, don't keep looking at your feet. Out there, out the port!"

Fox raised Kelly's head and brushed the red hair back from his eyes.

The madman looked.

"Heaven?" he whispered.

"Not Heaven. Kelly's Planet. Your planet, Kelly."

They pushed Kelly into the airlock. A minute later they saw him stumble onto the green meadows. For eleven more minutes he stood silent and motionless. Then he turned toward the rocket. Through the ports the men saw his lips move.

"Heaven!" yelled Fox. "That's what he said! He said 'Heaven'!"

III

Captain Torkel and Fox and Garcia and Van Gundy stood beside Kelly. Lieutenant Washington, too drunk to stand, sprawled in the grass.

They let the cool, clean air wash out their lungs like sweet perfume. They took off their shoes. They dug their toes into the soft, silky grass. They sniffed the poignant, spicy smell of the brilliant flowers.

Van Gundy, despite his trembling, played _Turkey in the Straw_ on his harmonica. Captain Torkel did a dance like that of a Russian Cossack. Lieutenant Washington, squatting like a dark Buddha and with his torso swaying drunkenly, clapped his hands in time with the dance. Fox hummed the tune, and even Kelly nodded his head rhythmically. Only Garcia stood motionless.

"It's a good planet!" exclaimed Fox at last.

Van Gundy's trembling hand whacked spit out of his harmonica. His eyes rolled fearfully toward the forest. "We don't know for sure yet."

"I think Fox is right," said Captain Torkel. "It _is_ a good planet. Enjoy it, men. Breathe deeply. Smell those flowers. Feel the grass. Because very soon we've got to start Earthward. We've got to store our memories full of this beauty so it'll last for twelve years."

"Oh, God," sighed Fox. "Twelve years."

Garcia stepped forward, swelling his chest. Strangely, it seemed that all the hatred had been drained out of him. "I was wrong," he said. "We're not crazy and we're not dead. This planet is good. It's so good that I'd like to stay here as long as I live."

"What?" asked Captain Torkel, blinking.

"I said I'd like to stay here as long as I live."

The words echoed in the still air. They were like evil seeds, falling into fertile minds and sprouting.

"And not go back to Earth?" asked Fox, stroking his beard.

"And not go back to Earth."

* * * * *

Captain Torkel stiffened. "Get those thoughts out of your head, Garcia. There are two billion people back on Earth. They'll die unless we tell them about this planet. We've got wives, friends--"

"Not me," said Garcia sternly. "No wife and no friends."

Fox shrilled, "The only reason I volunteered for this trip was to get away from my wife and that lousy New York apartment. You're not married, are you, Captain?"

"N--no."

"Me neither," hiccoughed Lieutenant Washington. "Not many girls'll marry spacemen."

"Kelly's married, though," mused Fox. "How about it, Kelly?"

"Heaven," mumbled Kelly.

Fox laughed. "Kelly means he wants to stay here."

Captain Torkel wiped perspiration from his upper lip with the back of his hand. "We got to get these thoughts out of our minds. We're talking like murderers. Garcia, think of the people you used to know. Think of their faces. Imagine how it would be for them to die."

Garcia looked up into the sky, his features softening. "I can't remember any faces, Captain. I can remember how the gulls used to fly over the coast at Monterey and how the fishing boats used to bounce over the waves. That's all. The gulls and the boats will be destroyed anyway. We can't save those."

Captain Torkel turned to Fox. "_You_ remember faces, don't you, Fox?"

The little man shrugged. "They're like those crowd scenes we used to see in movies--hundreds and thousands of faces all huddled together. You really can't remember a single one. They're like shadows."

"But you remember your wife's face."

"I don't want to remember that. I might vomit. And I don't want to remember that cheesy New York apartment either."

In desperation the captain turned to Van Gundy. "And you?"

"I--I remember the face of an old woman who sold flowers on O'Farrell Street in Frisco. Stood there all year long, she did. In winter, summer, spring, fall. I used to buy gardenias from her when I had a date."

"Do you want her to die?"

"She was so old that she's probably dead by this time anyway. But listen, Captain, I--I'm not sure yet that this planet--"

Captain Torkel whirled frantically to Lieutenant Washington, kicked him lightly in the side. The lieutenant, apparently somewhat sobered by the cool air, rose shakily.

"Lieutenant, _you_ remember the people of Earth. Can't you still see their faces in your mind?"

* * * * *

"The only face I remember," drawled Lieutenant Washington, "is my Mom's. A good face, with a lot of work in it, but thin around the lips and wrinkled around the eyes. It was a cold face, though. Mom was born in Louisiana and then moved up to Maine as a girl. Her bones weren't the kind to take those New England winters. So Mom slept, ate, lived and died cold. Been dead now for eight years, and I think she's still cold, even in her grave. I don't believe Mom'd mind one bit if the Earth burns up. She'd be warm then. I think she'd like it."

"That's not the point," said Captain Torkel angrily. "The point is--"

Fox broke in: "What do _you_ remember, Captain?"

Captain Torkel swallowed hard. "Me? Why, I remember, I--" His mouth remaining open, he scratched the back of his neck. His memories suddenly vanished like puffs of smoke.

"Just like the rest of us!" burst Garcia, triumphantly.

"You know, Captain," said Fox, "if we didn't go back, the race wouldn't have to roast. People would still escape in their emergency rockets."

"But they wouldn't know where to go. They'd float around a few years, and then those flimsy mass-production ships would break up. Good Lord, men, we've got to act like human beings!"

Garcia stepped forward. "Why don't we decide this later? Can't we relax for a few hours, Captain?"

Lieutenant Washington nodded agreement. "He's right. You said yourself, Captain, that if the planet was good we'd spend a day or so getting the madness out of our systems."

"All right," murmured Captain Torkel, shoulders drooping. "We'll look around some more."

They walked toward the forest. Fox led Kelly by the hand. Lieutenant Washington advanced under his own power.